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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24338020">A Riddle You Should Never Forget</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HedgeWrites/pseuds/HedgeWrites'>HedgeWrites</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>1930s, Adoption, BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Crossover, Immortal!Merlin, POV Merlin (Merlin), POV Tom Riddle, Teenage Tom Riddle, Young Tom Riddle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:06:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,389</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24338020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HedgeWrites/pseuds/HedgeWrites</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Orphanage couldn't find a space in their hearts between fear and pity for the boy. Merlin couldn't stand by and watch him fall. It's the 1930s, and Tom Riddle's rise to power is set in motion with very different beginnings. Ghosts of Merlin’s guilt spur him into the path of a boy whom so many had written off for darkness, but perhaps he can still be pulled from the depths.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>80</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Orphanage</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Began posting this story over on fanfic.net in 2018. Recently someone suggested I also begin to upload here, so I’ll start by adding the chapters I’ve already written (probably on a weekly basis) until it’s up to date. <br/>Otherwise, I try to update this story every two months, but it depends on how much time it takes me to write each chapter.<br/>Thanks for checking out this story!</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Old and tired of the world, Merlin meets a troubled young boy who might just change everything.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Wool’s Orphanage</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="u">
    <em>
      <span class="s2">~28th March, 1938...</span>
    </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The orphanage was almost vibrating with the hum of uncontrollable whispers. Martha didn't actually have a problem with talking to an acceptable level, but the children were holding in so much excitement that they'd found themselves speaking in hushed tones all day.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Martha didn't mind, so long as no one spontaneously combusted, as poor little Angie had looked on the brink of doing. It wasn't much use telling them all to calm down. Even at breakfast appetites had gone haywire, with some children not eating at all, and others downing twice what they usually ate. As the day dragged on, it had only gotten worse, and by three o'clock Martha had been shooing them from the hallway at regular intervals, greying hair working it's way from her neat and practical bun, so that when the moment arrived and the doorbell rung, she looked nothing short of frazzled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The visitor was the middle-aged son of the man who had founded Wool’s Orphanage. He was the unlikely type to harbour a secret fortune, but Martha was beyond thankful for his constant funding- wherever it came from. She'd met him, but he’d only visited enough times to count on Martha's fingers. It had been a long gap since his last visit. A long, twelve year gap.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She often wondered what on earth had kept him away. They'd received no word until a month ago, when a letter arrived by an astoundingly intelligent owl, saying he would soon be dropping by. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Despite how long it had been, Martha remembered distinctly the way the man’s demeanour had screamed at her that he was more than he seemed, but for all she pondered, she’d never quite been able to place him. She was older now, and far more tired, but his visit had instilled an odd kind of excitement in her. The orphanage head silently damned her tendency to want to stick her nose in everything she didn’t understand. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Working at Wool’s had never given her a dull day, but she’d always held the sense that there was more to be gained from the world. More excitement. More adventure. In her youth she’d chased it, and in another life she might have had it. And for some reason, she saw it in in the lanky, scruffy-haired man who owned Wool’s Orphanage.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Martha sighed, looking around herself at the hallway. The defining feature of the interior at Wool’s was its steady fading, and other than the wallpaper in the common room, very little had changed in the last twelve years. Several of the kids had moved on and left, and those that remembered the man wouldn’t be children much longer. They had done a good job spreading the rumours of him to the younger children though. Fantastical tales of a man with twinkly eyes and an endless bag of sweets. She'd even heard whispers of his little parlour tricks, that Martha rather fondly and curiously remembered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A thought hit her like a rock. Of course, the final change had been the arrival of the boy named Tom Riddle. Troubled and unnervingly different, Tom had spread an unease about the place that had grown into fear as his quiet dominance over the children at Wool’s developed. Even the kitchen staff were petrified of him. He barely left his room nowadays though. His eleventh birthday has passed unnoticed last December and in February an incident meant that all his meals were brought separately to his room. Martha couldn't find a space in her heart between discomfort and pity for the silent devil of a child. Perhaps, she often thought to herself, it was better now he kept more to himself. She was unhealthily ashamed of pushing the problem aside, but she couldn't jeopardise the happiness of the rest of the children for one, doomed boy named Tom.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The doorbell chimed with a harsh tinkle, sending the children flooding from the common room where they gathered eagerly at the bottom of the stairs in the hall. Martha sighed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I don't want you trampling him." She said, resigning herself to open the door.</span>
</p><hr/><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin hoped the small wrinkles he had added to his face would be enough. Ageing himself was a tedious and tiring affair, and other than the suspicions of Martha, the children at Wool’s had never really paid it any attention. It felt surreal to be back again. He knew that for the children, twelve years would have brought a great many changes. Even for Martha, who he had appointed eighteen years ago now, would feel as though an era had passed. He felt guilty that he hadn't visited in so long. He used to make an effort to every year at least... but “research” had lead him abroad. In truth, he’d been feeling particularly hopeless and needed a few years to remind himself the world was beautiful. To try to convince himself that it was a gift to see all the Earth’s wonders, and not a curse to have to watch them crumble.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He'd realised all too late that the twelve year blink in his own history was a far bigger gap for the mortal man. He shoved down the guilt that had plagued him to the doorstep, hoping what he'd brought would be enough.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The picture of a 1930s Gentleman, he currently donned his long, grey duffel coat with some simple, black trousers and a white shirt, concealed by a navy scarf that he had around his neck. It kept out the lingering cold that came with the early spring days of drizzle along with a discreet peaked cap. Oh, how he had missed the wonders of British weather. He didn't mind though, it was good to be home.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The old sorcerer wrung the bell of the looming building and stood back, rocking on his heels and holding his carrier bag behind him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Nervously, the door opened. An eye peeked out, and retreated quickly back inside after several squeals sounded. Merlin thought he heard the eye giving a firm order to keep quiet and civil, confirming his suspicions that it was Martha. Finally, the door opened again, fully this time, to reveal the stern faced head of the orphanage, corset as stiff as her upper lip and donning a black, practical dress. A few more lines in her face, a few more wispy grey hairs... but it was certainly her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Behind her stood the orphans, clearly attempting to look presentable and orderly, but their barely contained excitement immediately warmed his heart, and he cursed himself for not visiting sooner.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">From behind him, he revealed his carrier bag and a bunch of flowers.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"It's good to see you, Martha." Merlin smiled warmly, embracing the woman with his free arm and kissing her hand. She tried to keep a stern face whilst she thanked him, but Merlin knew the twinkle in her eye betrayed she was happy to see him. He liked Martha, and she had always been more curious about him than any of the children. Merlin couldn't help but wonder if she would become one of the few people to ever guess.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"And you, Mr Thomas." She replied, taking and admiring the humble flowers he had conjured on his journey here.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I trust you can entertain everyone for a moment while I go and-"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But Merlin had stopped listening. Instinctively, his gaze had been torn to fix itself on the stop of the staircase, where a gaunt, pale faced boy with perfectly combed hair and a sharp jawline stood gripping the banister, his knuckles white and eyes narrowed at Merlin. The warlock let out a breath, drawing in the foreign magic that had electrified the air around him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The boy on the stairs was a wizard. And a good one, at that. His magic stifled Merlin’s senses for a moment, tense with suspicion. The other children warmed his heart, but this child had captured his attention in an entirely different way. He felt drawn to him. Connected, somehow. He’d met plenty of other wizards, though, and he couldn’t remember anyone eliciting this kind of response.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Mr Thomas?" Martha said quietly, oddly concerned.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Who is that child? At the top of the stairs." Merlin said quietly, not breaking eye contact with the boy whose presence had silenced everything.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"That’s Tom. He’s grown up here but... he’s not like the other children." Martha replied, verging on a whisper.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin nodded slowly, understanding. That was a common response when a wizard showed up in the muggle world. He withdrew his gaze from the boy, realising where he was and blinking back into the moment. With the sprightliness of a young man he snapped back into action, handing Martha the carrier bag.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"It's so lovely to finally see you all," he said jovially, "I'm Mr Thomas, I think Martha is going to share out a little something I've brought for you." He called to the children with a trademark lopsided grin. His messy hair framed his angled face in a goofy way that caused a ripple of chuckles. His eyes twinkled, and Martha told the children to gather back in the common room.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The boy named Tom turned from his vantage point at the top of the stairs and began to walk back up them, an almost bored expression on his face.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Do you mind if I take five minutes?" Merlin said, turning to Martha, who shook her head in a despairing motion, guessing that he wanted to follow the child.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Mr Thomas, I don't think Tom really wants to spend time with the others, I-"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"He doesn’t need to come down and join us. I just want to introduce myself." Merlin cut her off, surprised at how determined he was to know more about him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Martha’s gaze avoided him and she swallowed, leaving something unsaid. Merlin drew back, ears flushing red.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I have never known you to be unnerved, Martha," he said, voicing his concerns.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Tom is not a nice boy,” she said reluctantly, “I can’t promise you’ll get much of a response.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’d like to talk to him all the same. Five minutes, I promise.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Martha sighed, and resigned herself to the chaos of the common room, casting him one last glance that seemed to say: </span>
  <span class="s3">
    <em>good luck</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">, before leaving Merlin alone in the corridor.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin turned towards the large oak staircase. He tried to let calm wash over him as he began to saunter up the stairs. He let his magic seep into the creaky wooden floorboards, following the pull of the boy’s magic along the panelled landing, stopping with a short breath outside a door at the end of the hall.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The door opened before Merlin could knock, revealing the slight and pasty boy, a cool glare on his features. Merlin had no idea why, but he found himself swallowing nervously. There was something cruel in Tom’s gaze that shouldn’t be present in one so young.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Hello," He said warmly, taking the embarrassing hint of fear and shoving it firmly aside. He wasn’t about to be off put by some pre-pubescent angst. And yet Tom gave off a dangerousness that set the hairs on the back of Merlin’s neck firmly on end. He sighed inwardly at the irony. Of all people, it was he that might strike fear into the hearts of men, not a little child. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom blinked up at Merlin, upper lip stiff. "So you're the one they all whisper about." It wasn't a question.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I am," Merlin answered levelly, realising that the 'warmth and friendliness' attitude wasn't going to soften Tom at any rate, "but I couldn’t help wondering why you were so eager to disappear. I brought chocolate."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I’m alright, thank you." Tom answered with a polite but painfully forced smile. He shut the door in Merlin’s face and the warlock caught his smile dropping into a cold glare before the lock snapped shut.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin sighed. Martha was right, Tom </span>
  <span class="s3">wasn’t</span>
  <span class="s1"> a nice boy, and it might be dangerous for him to remain here as his magic developed. A pressing little voice in Merlin’s head wondered if he could help.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Tom..." he persisted, pressing a hand to the door, his tone a little more stern, "If I wanted to be downstairs with the other children instead of talking to you I would be. Open the door, please." He tried to reason but there was no reply.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"It won't be long, I just want to ask you about something." Merlin balled his palm against the door into a fist when there was still no movement. He placed his forehead to the wood in despair. Perhaps he had to approach this from a different direction.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was so unimaginably curious about this boy and the effect he’d had, that it would be impossible to just leave it there and walk away. After all these years of purposeless waiting, he’d forgotten what it felt like to feel driven and motivated. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom’s magic was strong and turbulent, and he was worried about what such a potential could do to one so young. Thinking back to his childhood in Ealdor, he wondered what could have become of him if he’d not had his mother to tell him to keep his faith in goodness when he was constantly targeted and made to feel outcast. Hunnith had been the one to teach him right from wrong, to tell him time and time again that anger was not a way to use his gifts. He saw anger in Tom’s eyes, and he saw a ghostly version of who he might have been without the right people in his life.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This boy had Martha, but Martha was not enough. Martha, though brilliant, was not a mother nor could she understand the uniqueness of Tom’s situation. As a result, the boy was already sinking into the darkest parts of himself. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In that moment when their eyes had locked on the stairs, Merlin had been gripped by the desire to pull Tom out. He’d never thought himself a hero, but he wanted to save him. To teach him. To care for him. It had been many centuries since he’d wanted to attach himself to a task this strongly. His gut instinct was good, and he would try to listen to it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He needed more information first. How much did Tom know about the gifts Merlin sensed within him? And what had caused this darkness he carried?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin tried one last time to get Tom to open the door and again he failed. He stood back a moment, resigning himself to his unfortunate conclusion. The child was guarded, and Merlin needed to give the boy a reason to </span>
  <span class="s3">want</span>
  <span class="s1">to talk to him- this door would do reluctantly nicely.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He raised a slightly shaking hand towards the door, grimacing and hoping no one would venture upstairs before he repaired the damage he was about to do. He breathed deeply, banishing all trace of the tremor in his hand. He focused, he channeled his magic, he felt it simmer beneath his outstretched fingertips and in one fluid motion he clenched his fist and yanked it back, pulling the door firmly out of the frame with an invisible force. It hung limp in the air for a moment while Merlin strode into Tom’s bedroom and then fitted itself, rather contemptuously back into place after a smooth flick of Merlin’s hand. The warmth faded from behind the warlock’s irises and he took in his new surroundings.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Contrasting to the wooden panelled, dusty carpeted landing hallway, Tom’s room was a blank slate. Remnants of a blue printed teddy-bear wallpaper lay plastered to the back wall as if they were the last stand of some long lost vibrancy. To Merlin’s left a bunk bed stood against one of the walls and at its foot sat a small chest of drawers. The single mattress on the bottom bunk looked like it had not been slept in for several days and there were no possessions strewn about on the aged wooden floor as you would expect in an ordinary boy’s bedroom. A single candlestick was all that lay on the bedside table, though a drawer was set into the simple wooden box. There was a locked wardrobe and the back window was shut, the curtains drawn. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The only place in the bedroom that looked as if it was even used was a desk on Merlin’s right. Tom stood in front of it, as if he had made a last desperate attempt to hide its contents.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Papers where strewn across it filled with a furious slanting scrawl, large books could be seen beneath all the scattered ink pots and broken quills. There were notes tacked to various sheets indicating someone desperately trying to piece something together. Merlin spotted a corner of a photo frame peeking out from the madness.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Finally, he turned to regard Tom. Naturally, he was shocked, but there was a hint of something else in his gaze, and as the pair stared each other down that something else grew across Tom’s features, and it was Merlin’s turn to be perplexed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was hunger. A longing for the power he had witnessed shone in Tom’s eyes as he trained them beadily on Merlin and there was a hint of scrutiny in his brow that examined the old sorcerer as though he were an object in a shop window. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin felt repulsed by the look. It suddenly and awfully hit him that Tom had sunk far further than he thought. No child’s emotions would turn to greed over awe so quickly. Tom saw the world only through what he could gain, and even his surprise could barely suppress it. He was so painfully young, and twisted. Merlin dared not think what he sought the power for.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">One thing was sure though: if Tom hadn't wanted to talk to him before, he certainly did now.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"How did you do that? Who are you?" Tombroke out violently, and then more quietly added, “Could <em>I</em> do that?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"That's what I wanted to talk about." Merlin answered, his plan to keep Tom engaged. He stepped further into the room, kneading his forehead a couple of times considering his next move. Tom knew he was different. Perhaps he’d felt something of the connection between them, or maybe he’d experienced his magic in outbursts, as was common for emerging wizards. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Have you ever noticed you can do things that the other children here can't?" He asked, phrasing the question carefully.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The gleam in Tom’s eyes said it all, but he answered anyway.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Oh yes. I know what I am. I’m like you, aren’t I."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">What did that mean? That he knew he was a wizard? Merlin began to pace about the strange room, thinking. Tom opened his mouth eagerly to speak again, eyes still darting to the door every so often as if he had to keep pinching himself. It was unnerving how interested and animated the boy had become, and a smile did not look like it often presented itself on his face. He looked as though he’d been waiting for a moment like this for a long time. Merlin cut off Tom’s open mouth with a question of his own.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Excuse me for asking, but what do you about your parents?" He was treading on thin ice asking a question like that in an orphanage, but it was worth knowing if Tom was a muggle-born or from a family of wizards.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"My mother had magic- that’s what it is, right?" he said and Merlin nodded evenly, "But my father..." Tom scowled at the floor, losing interest in the question. Merlin pressed a little further.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"He didn't have it? That seems to upset you-"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"He was scum!" Tom hissed. "He abandoned my mother, he drove her to her death, he- he- muggles all deserve to-"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Tom!" Merlin stopped him sternly, instinctively reaching out to lay a hand on the boy’s shoulder, watching as he squirmed for a moment under another's touch before resorting to glaring at the floor uncomfortably. Merlin took his hand away, sighing. Tom was vile in nature, but he was so young. Merlin believed that people were only products of their circumstances, and whilst he was deeply unsettled by the boy in front of him, it did little to deter him from the possibility that he could be changed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"People aren’t all responsible for the sins of one. Whatever your father did, there’s nothing you can do-"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Nothing I can do?" Tom said quietly, a threat edged his voice. "Don't tell me there's nothing I can do, Mr Thomas. There's a lot more I can do than the rest of these ignorant children!"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin took a step back, his brow furrowed in the deepest concern. "Tom, don't forget you are a child too. You may have magic but that doesn't mean you are any better than muggles. They have done a lot more for wizards than wizards have ever done for them."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"And that's how it should be." Tom stated in defiance of Merlin’s words. "You reveal that you’re like me, why, to try and manipulate me? And then you turn out to be a muggle-lover? I should find someone else to teach me magic. Someone who isn’t a boot-licker to lesser people."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Something told Merlin that Tom had never actually met another wizard before. He didn’t want to push him away, but to tug at the old warlock’s guilt. Merlin and his guilt, however, were old friends, and he wouldn’t be so easily swayed. His mind was virtually made up now: he was going to help Tom, but it would be on his own terms.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I haven't agreed to teach you. Nor agreed to anything just yet." He replied. He had decided that Tom needed to leave this place. Nothing good could come of him here and just as Merlin had been at odds with the children in Ealdor, so was Tom here at Wool’s. Only, Tom didn’t have a mother to send him away where he could find a purpose for his talents. Merlin was the closest thing the boy had to what Gaius and Camelot had been to him in his youth. Tom’s situation was more grave than Merlin's had ever been and this only made him surer of what needed to happen.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"How old are you, Tom?"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Eleven." The boy replied proudly, and then his voice dropped to a pleading tone, "I need to learn to control it, the magic. It lashes out when I’m angry and I... can do things. The ordinary children here fear it and they hate me for it. They never even tried to welcome here-"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Perhaps because you never welcomed them either." Merlin muttered to himself, stopping the cunning boy in his tracks. He understood the puppy-eyed game very well.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before another violent burst of speech slipped through his facade. "Wh- why should I have welcomed them when they would just cast me out? I shouldn’t have to listen to authority that’s beneath me. They’re awful people." </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Do you really fear rejection from them, Tom?" Merlin said, walking towards the door, thinking more of his talk with Martha than of filtering his tongue, "Or do you fear rejection from </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s3">me</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1">?"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin opened the door manually this time, shutting it quietly behind him and pacing quickly back down the hall. As soon as he left, the tension lifted; laughter filtered into his senses and simple happiness and excitement suffocated the air. He strolled back into the common room with a smile and was met with a little cheer that made his cheeks flush. He beamed as he took in the children of Wool’s happily munching on the confectionery he had brought and Martha doing her rounds, picking up wrappers and telling everyone that they had to clean their teeth especially well tonight.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When she spotted Merlin, she made her way over, a curious crease in her brow. "That was more than five minutes, Mortimer." She said sternly and Merlin knew she wanted answers- she rarely used the first name he had chosen unless she was especially serious. Even less in front of the children.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I've come to an important decision regarding Tom's welfare." Merlin replied, "if it’s okay, I would like to discuss it as soon as possible."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You can stay over this evening, we can talk after dinner," she replied, "if the children even want to eat after what you've brought." She phrased it like a telling-off but Merlin chuckled and she also adopted a small smile.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I'll entertain them for a while, you go cancel dinner and put your feet up." Merlin said, smiling as Martha raised her eyebrows and took the pile of wrappers she was holding out to the kitchen, leaving him to it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She had barely disappeared from sight and the children were already crowded around him, the older ones asking for him to do one of his tricks and the younger ones who had he had not met asking if he really was a magician. Merlin chuckled and obliged, picking up a plain wrapper from the side table and crumpling it in his palm, he threw it up in the air, there was a little flash of gold, and he caught the balled up wrapper firmly in his hand.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He crouched down, letting the children gather around him in anticipation as he opened his outstretched hand to reveal not only a perfectly intact wrapper, but a boiled sweet still inside.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was a simple trick really, less down to magic and more down to slight of hand in swapping the old wrapper for a sweet of the same variety but the children couldn't get enough of it. He ended up doing the replenishing trick with just about every child in the room before Martha came back in, saying that they would be having a light dinner, and that each of them had to eat a vegetable before they could leave the table.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As the children filed out, Martha turned to Merlin with a furrowed brow.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"The staff said they'll handle this evening for me, come, let's take a seat in the office."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin followed Martha back into the hall, into a small room adjacent to the front door. It was dimly lit, with dark-green coloured walls and a high skirting board. A single desk stood against one wall and a set of drawn curtains stood behind a small table and a pair of chairs. Filing cabinets, some overflowing, were stacked beside the door. Merlin quickly took a seat, eager to start.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"So, what did you make of him?" Martha asked, eyes indicating the floor above where Tom’s bedroom was.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I'm still not sure, I don't know enough about his background- but he can't stay here Martha. He just can't."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"So you're suggesting..."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yes. And as soon as possible."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"We've tried. No families will take him." Martha sighed, but Merlin sprung back with his answer.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"That's why I shall be taking him in."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Martha stilled in her seat. "Mortimer... I urge you to think a little more on this. It's not-"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I have rarely been so sure of something in my life," Merlin said, reaching across the desk to lay his hand atop Martha's in earnest, "though I do have a few questions still."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I don't know what you've seen in him." Martha said quietly, but nodded.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"What do you know of Tom's parents?"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Martha sucked in a breath, "His father, of the same name, was rumoured to have left his mother when she was with Tom. She died hours after he was born, some said from the birth itself... others say she just... gave up."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"She came here? To the Orphanage?" Merlin pressed thoughtfully.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yes, that's where she gave birth. A few months after your last visit. She had just enough time to name the boy before she died." Martha said solemnly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"What was her name, his mother?" Merlin asked, hopeful.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Merope, I believe." Martha answered, taking a moment to process her memory. Merlin imagined she didn't often bring such a subject to mind.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Surname? Her maiden name?"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I couldn't say, we just knew she needed help, that was all. There were few questions asked that night. If it is any use, he was also named after his grandfather- Marvolo."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin sat back in his chair a moment, the silence filling the room. He wracked his brains. Merope and Marvolo... Marvolo and Merope... he tested the names on his tongue and they rolled off so easily he knew they should mean something to him. He cursed himself for travelling these past twelve years, his knowledge of the wizarding families of England had been pushed from his mind. He would have to go to the books.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Does anything... <em>unusual</em>... happen around Tom? Perhaps when he is angry, or sad?" Merlin said, moving on from the question of family.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"It's funny you should ask that." Martha said, a small smile playing on her lips that held no mirth. "The things are a little more... sinister than your party tricks."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I'm sure." Merlin said in a low voice. "Can you describe any?"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"He liked to scare the children, you know, in the earlier days. I'm sure he still has a whole collection of his "trophies" in that wardrobe. But in the last year... after the incident at the beach, he's been incredibly isolated."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Trophies?"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"The children's toys. You barely see him any more now though. Meals are sent up to his room- after one of the staff got a nasty burn at dinner. Mentioned Tom’s mother, tried to cheer him up. Scalding hot water went everywhere."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"So because he was a danger to the children... isolation will make him a danger to himself." Merlin said bitterly, thinking of how turbulent the boy’s magic had felt. The threshold at which it began to react instinctively in defence was very low. "You just can't win sometimes."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"No," Martha said quietly, deadly serious. "but I cant jeopardise the safety of the others. Tom is a lost cause. A devilish boy. I often dread to think what he's doing up there, but no one dares to knock and find out." She said bitterly, and the fact that the orphanage head struggled to meet merlin’s eyes as she spoke gave away her guilt. Merlin had to agree, Tom seemed capable of awful thins. He wondered again what it was that had attached him to such a vile boy so quickly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You mentioned another incident- at the beach."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Martha nodded, "Last year. We took the children on a harmless outing. Tom took two into a cave, no doubt charmed them into an adventure of sorts. They were never the same afterwards. Won't talk about what happened there to this day."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"And you say... Tom isolated himself from then on?"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yes, drawing into himself, very thoughtful all of a sudden. He was nonetheless cruel, but he came back from that trip and seemed to put himself above it all. It wasn't that he'd changed or anything, he just seemed to think that tormenting the other children was no longer worth his time. Something in that cave... made him think."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"He's certainly got a narrow view of the world." Merlin agreed, processing the new information. "Whatever it was, Tom has got far bigger plans on his mind now. He’s got something going on in that room... looks like he doesn’t sleep much either."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Martha raised her eyebrows, "He let you in?"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You give him a reason to want to talk... and he will. You must know he plays games with people, Martha. You just have to play them back." Merlin explained. It was almost entirely truthful.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Martha smiled to herself.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I've no idea why I let you try to talk to him in the first place. Perhaps you just have a way with these things."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Experience, mainly." Merlin commented, "So, how are we going to go about this?" He reiterated, rolling his shoulders and taking off his thick grey duffel coat, hanging it on the back of his chair.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You still want to adopt him? Surely with your lifestyle-"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I will make sure I am here for the rest of his schooling. Twenty years or so is not so long to stick around." Merlin assured, noting the old curiosity return to Martha's expression when he mentioned the passing years. His experience of time was not the same as hers, and she seemed to have cottoned on that Merlin was older than he appeared.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You will tutor Tom? He is incredibly apt, there is little the teacher here can do for him."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I have something in mind." Merlin said.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I still don't think this is wise, Mr Thomas. What with all the... </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s3">incidents</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1"> around Tom, not to mention his very nature. We have tried to get him assessed by a professional... but circumstances always arise... people suspect it may be Tom’s doing keeping them away." Martha actually looked concerned, worried.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Martha, you have to trust me. I know Tom has been written off. I can see it in your eyes now, and in the children's before. You think he is too far gone." Merlin said, leaning forward again over the table, a simmering of emotion in his voice as he brought to the surface the memory of a woman from long ago.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I knew someone once. Too many people failed her too many times. Very few noticed her descent into darkness and no one was there to pull her out. I was the only one who saw. I was the only one who could have helped her... but I didn't. I didn't dare try, because I was too scared of the consequences that would befall myself. So when she was overcome and began to hurt people, </span>
  <span class="s3">that was on <em>me</em></span>
  <span class="s1">." Merlin blinked back the water from his eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Guilt was an ever present ghost. It followed Merlin like a shadow, banished only partially by the days distractions and consuming his dreams. He could not, </span>
  <span class="s3">
    <em>would not</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">, let Tom fall. A challenge? Yes. Dangerous? Certainly. But it had to be done.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Oh God above, Mortimer," Martha sighed, leaning back in her chair, "this is going to be a lot of paperwork."</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey! Thanks for reading the first chapter :) I've written a multi-chaptered fic before, but let's just say... It's on Wattpad for a reason.</p><p>I'm hoping I can take what I've learnt from that fic and apply it to this story, which has been planned out better. It won't be perfect, but I hope you enjoy the ride anyway.</p><p>I've put quite a bit of research into dates in this fic, so hopefully it will follow a consistent timeline, that fits into HP cannon along the way. Tom was born on December 31st 1926, Merlin visited Wools in the summer of that year before going travelling. Tom would start Hogwarts on the 1st of September 1938, so I’ve set the opening in March of that year, before his letter arrives.</p><p>(Revised: May ‘20, January ‘21)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2: The House on Pennethorne Road</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Merlin introduces Tom to his home, and his first glimpse of the wizarding world. Tom is cool, cold and confident as always, but is there the potential for change under the surface?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for everyone on AO3 who has enjoyed this story so far!<br/>If you want to read the rest of the chapters, all 9 I’ve written so far are up on fanfic.net under the same name and title.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>
      <span class="u">~20th April, 1938...</span>
    </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin had expected to return to Wools as soon as he could. After all, he owed it to Martha and the children there after twelve years travelling on the mainland. He hadn’t, however, expected to be back within a month.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He also hadn’t been expecting to adopt a certain boy named Tom, but that was a whole other worry. Martha had been right about the paperwork, and if she had found it pressing that was nothing on Merlin. His backstory was foolproof for everyday life, but there had been no end to the legal tweaks, checks and records he had needed to make to ‘<em>Mr Mortimer A. Thomas</em>’ to make him viable for parenthood.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After all the long hours they’d spent together on this, Martha had quickly realised that Merlin’s mind would not be swayed on the matter, and perhaps more slowly she had come onto the same page as him about it. She had said to him in their final meeting before today, as Merlin shook out his hand-cramp in between signing all the final documents, that maybe it really was for the best. That Tom would benefit from Merlin’s care, rather than destroy the flicker of hope Merlin still held for the boy within the first week, as the stern lady had previously thought.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Secretly, though, Merlin suspected that Martha had been on board with the process much longer. She had certainly gone out of her way to make the daunting task of adoption easier for Merlin, and she had often commented how strange it was that Tom himself had taken the news so well.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’ve put a genuine spell on the lad.” She had said, that spark of interest playing on her subtly curious features, “I often wonder what it is about you that can break down the walls that Tom builds around himself, but it will nonetheless be a dangerous game to play.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know.” Merlin had replied earnestly. He tried to get a hold of the worming anxiety that had flared up within him yet again as he thought of the task before him. He checked his pockets a third time: train fare, keys, chocolate... he ran through his crumpled muggle underground map once more before stowing it at last in his pocket. There was no use fretting anymore. </span>
  <span class="s1">As confidently as he could muster, Merlin rang the Orphanage bell. Martha answered quickly this time and in a bit of a blur Merlin passed through the main hall with her and onto the landing, butterflies flitting about his abdomen relentlessly. And there he was, pristine and cool as always- not a hair out of place.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh- Tom, you’re already packed.” Martha said, upon spotting the boy as he exited his dank little box room for what Merlin realised was probably the last time. Despite the revelations Martha may have had about Tom, Merlin realised that the tiniest hint of fear was instilled in her tone even as she spoke to the boy now. Tom noticed it too. Merlin swallowed as he watched the pale boy smile sweetly at Martha, concealing a hint of glee in his charming features.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin found himself gulping a little at the reality of having Tom in front of him again. The boy loved to be feared, so Merlin knew he would have to keep his own nerves under lock and key. It hit him again how important it was that he did this. Not just for Tom, but for all the others he might harm if he didn’t change. He felt as though he was standing at the base of the tallest mountain in the world... and already a blizzard was blowing strong.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Tom, so good to see you again!” Merlin greeted calmly, a jolly bounce in his step as he snapped back into action and walked over to shake Toms hand. Tom took it purposely with a firm, but relaxed shake.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">
    <em>Oh, here's a boy who knows how to charm, </em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">Merlin thought, an image of his own younger self forming in his mind- able to employ the perfect etiquette at any moment. It had certainly been useful, noble visitors tended to forgive the clumsy servant when he demonstrated he could use a teaspoon with perfection. Well, apart from Arthur... Merlin’s thoughts trailed a frown into his face and he realised this a second too late.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After a polite hello, Merlin asked if Tom had been well, and told him briefly of their travel arrangements as they made their way downstairs to the main hallway. Tom held his plain, dusty leather suitcase firmly in one arm as he walked, crisp brown jacket angling his shoulders in a perfect posture. He responded to Merlin’s small talk in short, trained responses, betraying to Merlin that his mind was on other things. They stopped in the hallway and Martha said something along the lines of “popping to get Tom’s lunch from the kitchen.” before she disappeared from the hall.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Now alone, Merlin turned quickly to Tom, keeling down in front of him so his lanky form could meet the boy at eye level.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Now,” he said, “we’ve got quite a lot of settling in to do today but I promise we will have a sit down and talk various things over,” Merlin let a pause follow to make sure Tom understood what he was leaving unsaid. The boy nodded eagerly and Merlin continued, “I think, it would be a good idea to go and say goodbye to the other children now.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom scoffed as soon as the words left Merlin’s mouth. “They’ll be grateful I’m gone, trust me Mr Thomas.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Tom...” Merlin said in a low voice, “These children, like it or not, have been your company your whole life. In the very least you owe them a goodbye.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom shook his head, smiling sadly at Merlin, “You can't expect me to say goodbye to that lot. I’ll forget about them all soon enough anyway.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin reached forward and gripped Toms shoulders sternly, “If you do nothing else before you go,” he said in a quiet voice with a hint of threat he didn’t know he possessed, “you will say goodbye to those children. They have done you no harm and you know it. No one, is not worth a goodbye.” Merlin finished in what had become a harsh whisper. Bitterly, he remembered his last words to the witch, Morgana.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">If nothing, he had said goodbye.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom seemed to stiffen at Merlin’s delivery and he nodded quietly, dropping his suitcase and trudging silently over to the common room, slipping inside. The door shut with a click and Merlin was left alone on his knees in the hallway.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He sighed, releasing the pressure that had built up in his shoulders. It meant a lot to him that Tom said goodbye now. He wasn’t sure why exactly, but he felt as though it would be wrong for him to leave without a word. He began to stand up slowly and it was at this point that Martha came out of the dinning room door on the right side of the hall with a paper bag in hand. She frowned when she saw Merlin alone in the hall.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Where is he?” She asked, placing the sandwich bag on top of Toms suitcase.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Saying goodbye to the children.” Merlin replied.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Martha practically spluttered at Merlin. “He’s... what?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin shrugged and smiled, “What can I say, I’ve just got that ‘effect on him’.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Martha playfully slapped his arm in response. “I keep saying that because it’s true,” she said, “I didn’t believe it at first, but I think you may be able to save that boy.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I hope so.” Merlin said, tone snuffing out the light mood of their conversation. The weight of his task weighed heavy on his mind and he grimaced at the floor, biting the inside of his lip.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If you ever need me,” Martha said quietly, putting an arm around the dejected looking man.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thanks, Martha. For everything.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You too.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was a dim silence in which Merlin adjusted his coat collar and picked up Toms case, making his way over to the vestibule. Tom returned soon after from the common room, an unreadable expression on his face.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Bye.” The boy said quietly, taking his sandwich bag and nodding to Martha. He wandered over to Merlin and together the two of them pulled open the old Victorian door and stepped out into the grey London morning.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Martha found a bag of chocolates on her desk later that day. Smiling to herself, she stowed the accompanying note into the breast-pocket of her dress. It all made sense to her now.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When they rounded the corner of the street, Merlin could tell Tom wasn't impressed. He saw the tiny slither of excitement fade from the boy’s features as soon as he realised that Merlin’s house was </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>ordinary</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Pennethorne Road was neither too close nor too far from central London. South of the Thames, it's yellow-bricked Victorian houses formed a neat and quiet street. Merlin was grateful to own the house here, as it was always a comfortingly ordinary and unchanged neighbourhood to return to after a trying day... or a trying twelve years. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He'd rented it out while he was away, but enchantments within the house kept all of his own belongings in order for when he returned. He'd set up a room for Tom the night before, and he hoped that it would at least be something to lift the boy from his mood.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was mainly Merlin’s fault, really. They'd caught the train from the Orphanage to the nearby station, with marginal success. Tom had first become impatient as Merlin studied the maps for more than fifteen minutes, unused to ordinary public transport. The young Riddle’s temper had then descended into exasperation as Merlin had flustered about purchasing, and then promptly misplacing the tickets. When they had finally boarded the train, Merlin had felt Tom’s magic boiling beneath his surface. If he was going to avoid accidental magic outbursts, he was going to need to get better at this. Clumsiness he couldn't really account for, but he assured himself that the inevitable journeys to Kings Cross and Diagon Alley would be faultlessly smooth.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Not what I expected from a man with a fortune, Mr Thomas." Tom commented, lifting his nose up at the house they had stopped by on the corner.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I don't feel the need to show people what I have just for the sake of it," Merlin replied calculatingly, "because this house has everything I need, the rest can sit quietly in the bank."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom scoffed quietly to himself, shaking his head at the ground. Merlin pursed his lips, taking his keys out of his pocket and making his way through the front garden. This side of Tom was going to be like prying the 'Prince' out of Prince Arthur.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I'll show you around first," Merlin said as the lock on the door clicked and he stepped inside the hallway, flicking a switch to illuminate the entrance way, "then we'll sit down and have a chat." He squinted into the din of the rest of the house, “I need to look at re-doing this place. It really is lacking proper lighting. Well, opening the curtains would be a start-" Merlin stopped, realising that Tom had frozen in the doorway, no longer listening.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Of course, the house may have looked ordinary on the outside, but within... it was a different story. Whilst being so preoccupied about setting off on the right foot, he had forgotten to prepare Tom for his first glimpse of a wizarding household.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Did you put those people in there?" Tom asked with an unnerving innocence, pointing to a painting that was on the wall opposite the coat hooks. As usual, it was moving.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Goddess, no Tom. They're not real. It's just a fond view of mine." Merlin replied quickly, taking a moment to watch the moving scene. An endless sea crashed against the tumbled rocks on the cliff-side. A clump of sea pinks rippled in the foreground so vividly that Merlin could almost hear them rustle together in the wind, the roar of water in the background. A couple of figures strolled calmly by, as though they hadn't a care in the world...</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He blinked out of his musings, placing his keys on a shelf by the door.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Do you really keep your house locked with one set of keys?" Tom asked, eyebrows raised at Merlin in a way that made him feel almost patronised. The small moment of discovery had passed and Tom Riddle had risen back above everything, seeming totally at ease once more. Merlin had to admire it, just a little.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Doesn't everyone?" He said, answering Tom, "But no, I don't. It's a little more complex than it looks."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"How does it work?" The boy asked, his eyes curious but perfectly calm and Merlin knew he was being played again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"That's a story for another time." He answered with finality. He wasn't about to share information on his house security that easily. Tom to nodded submissively, as you would to a Gentleman or a professional. Martha had mentioned his impeccable manners and the way he could use them to sway anything to his advantage, and Merlin suspected he was just scratching the top of the iceberg. He himself couldn’t deny having played on several lords and royals in his time to get what he needed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"We'll take your bag to your room first, eh?" Merlin said, breaking the silence that had slunk in between them. Tom remained at ease. Merlin, deciding that he needed to get used to it as much as Tom did, reached inside his coat to pull out a thin, stuffed wooden rod. Unicorn hair, flexible and thirteen inches, apparently. Though it didn't really matter since Merlin just pretended to use the thing. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He pointed it at the small brown suitcase at Toms feet, causing it to rise smoothly from the ground, a metre or so at first, but after Merlin flicked a second light switch, illuminating the narrow set of stairs against the wall, it shot up out of sight.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Without a word, Tom strode quickly up the stairs after it with an unreadable expression on his face. Merlin followed Tom and the case more slowly, turning the landing lights on with a snap of his fingers. He found Tom in the centre of the room that used to belong to a whole host of Merlin’s crud that he had cleared away with the difficulty of a chronic hoarder. He wasn't really a hoarder himself, but it just so happened that you tended to collect a lot of things worth keeping when you lived for over a thousand years.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I gathered you didn't want anything flashy," Merlin said as he came up behind Tom, "but I hope this is okay."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom didn't reply a first, choosing to take a little walk around the perimeter of the room, letting each detail sink in. He scrutinised each of the moving paintings, lifted up the corners of the plain striped duvet cover and ran his fingers across the block coloured dusty grey walls. But inevitably he couldn't keep his eyes from the ceiling long. Despite the blank slate he had seen of Tom’s room at the orphanage, Merlin couldn't keep the whole thing so... </span>
  <span class="s2">grey</span>
  <span class="s1">. It just wasn't his nature. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The ceiling had a somewhat three-dimensional appearance to it, much like he had seen from his brief visits to Hogwarts in the past, it was as though someone had taken a slice out of a clear night sky. He was quite pleased with it, really. Mesmerising blinks of light endlessly dotted through a deep rich coloured sky that melted from hue to hue. Purples, pinks, greens, blues... not so much that it was blinding, but just enough to bring a simplistic beauty to the suspended slice of reality.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"It's quite a feat Mr Thomas." Tom said at last. "I was always fascinated by the stars. A distant power we cannot quite conceive of, existing entirely separate from our own ideas of time."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin was stumped by the eloquence as well as the irony of his answer. He himself had tried so hard to move with the pace of modern society, but despite everything he'd always felt at a distance. A year was only a heartbeat in his lifetime, and it saddened him whenever he thought of it. He lingered on, as always. Waiting for a destiny he wasn’t even sure he believed in anymore. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But now, Merlin was determined to do something meaningful with the unimaginable amount of time that had been thrust upon him. Tom was going to do very nicely.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Magic is a wonder and a beauty in its truest form, I've always believed that." Merlin replied. Tom seemed to think on this deeply for a moment.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I can barely wait to master it. To understand something so wonderful so completely would surely give a man power beyond the stars," he began and Merlin’s smile dropped sadly from his face, "but it is beautiful, thank you."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The smile returned to Merlins features. That was it, he'd seen it at last. The real Tom had broken through without a snide or twisted comment on his tongue. That was all Merlin needed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Come," he said, "I'll show you 'round and you can unpack after dinner."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom followed him quietly on a tour of the house: the bathroom; the old laundry room that Merlin had turned into a cramped book store; the din living room with a couple squashy arm chairs; the round dinning table beside a large oak cabinet with all manner of odds and ends stored behind its glass cupboards and finally the kitchen. Merlin swept over to where the kettle was sitting, on the side of the little island where two stools were kept. Then, taking his wand again, he brought two cups from one of the overhead cupboards on the back wall.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Tea?" He said merrily. Tom nodded quietly, eyes fixed on a door that joined the kitchen and the hall to the back of the house.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"What's in that room?" He asked, stopping Merlin cautiously in his tracks as he lit the stove under the kettle with a flick of his wrist. He regained his composure as fast as he could but he knew Tom had seen him falter.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"That's my study. It's a bit cramped with everything from my travels and all the things that were in your room, so I’m going to say it’s out of bounds- if that's okay."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom considered this a moment as Merlin handed him a steaming cup of Earl Grey. "Alright." He said, but Merlin heard the silent thought that followed: </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">for now</span>
    <span class="s1">.</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">
    <em>Not likely</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">, Merlin thought. That room had the strongest wards in the house, such that the founders combined would struggle to break them. If Tom got in there, for one thing it would be a complete shock and for another, Tom would discover exactly who Merlin really was. Neither appealed to him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">By the time he had sat himself down beside Tom on one of the stools, Merlin had a host of questions lined up to tactfully get through, but before he could say anything, Tom asked a rather blunt one of his own.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"So why have you really decided to adopt me, Mr Thomas?"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin chewed the inside of his mouth a moment, taking a sip of his tea to buy time as he carefully chose his words. "I think," he said, "that we will both benefit from each others company." Tom gave him a look that told him he wasn't going accept a vague answer of any sort, no matter how Merlin phrased it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I am getting on, and I haven’t settled down with anyone,” Merlin began, </span>
  <span class="s2">and not planning on any settling</span>
  <span class="s1">, he added silently before continuing, “even after founding the orphanage I always wondered if I could raise a child myself one day. I never thought I would until I met you, Tom. It's not often a wizard stumbles into an Orphanage, and I got the distinct feeling that you were not a boy tailored to life at Wools." Merlin explained, treading the thin line between Tom’s belief he had been superior to the children at Wools and the truth that he was a danger there.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> "A bit of solitude can be a great relief, but we all need a source of company- else we will forget what it is to be human."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"My <em>company</em> wasn't welcomed by any of the children at Wools," Tom said, almost spitting the word 'children', "and you're telling me that I made it worse by keeping my distance?"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yes, because you became dangerous to yourself. Your magical core has developed a very low tolerance due to your limited exposure to anything outside your comfort zone. You may have noticed it has been knotting your stomach all day." Merlin replied, hoping that Tom would see reason if he brought his magic into this. Like the flick of a switch Tom’s eyes lit up eagerly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Of course, that makes sense. Do you think it became stronger?"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin let out a quiet, breathy chuckle. "More wild and erratic, yes- but stronger? Well, you will find it harder to control for one thing, but that is something we can work on."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom nodded seriously, taking it all in. "When can we start? When can I finally learn to use it?"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin sensed a little frustration in his tone, but saw the opportunity to finally ask his own questions. "I need to fill you in on a few things first," he said, "we can start now with a few questions."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom nodded, "Ok."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"When did you realise that you could do unusual things? You seem to have a bit of knowledge of what being a wizard entails but when did you connect the strange occurrences to magic?" Merlin began.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom was happy to answer, "I've known I'm different since as far back as I can remember. It's hard not to notice, and last year I decided that I wanted to read up on it. I wanted to know what else I could do with it." Tom replied, and Merlin was pleased that his timeline was tying in with how Martha had told him that Tom had isolated himself. Merlin had seen for himself that the boy had hit the books when he had visited the Orphanage in March.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"It took quite a lot of searching but I came across several accounts of instances like mine, and the things I was able to do happening elsewhere. Of course, nobody else had taken the authors seriously- none of them knew what I knew. So I had figured that I must be one of a rare number of people, with powers much above the ordinary. Your introduction was exactly the proof I needed." Tom said, displaying to Merlin the strength of his own drive. At such a young age, to piece such things together so quickly was quite incredible. Too incredible, perhaps.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin paused to collect his thoughts- Tom knew he was different, but he didn’t seem to inherently know of the wizarding world. He still didn’t quite understand what had motivated the young Riddle to delve into his history and launch such an investigation but he knew it must’ve had something to do with the cave incident Martha had vaguely described. He decided it wouldn't be a good idea to ask about something like that so soon. He had to gain Toms trust.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You also mentioned knowing that your mother had magic." Merlin continued, putting another half-spoon of sugar in his tea to Tom’s slight amusement. Merlin was allowed to be a little odd, given his circumstances. A stupidly sweet tooth for an adult man was hardly much of an ask.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I read into my family history, naturally.” Tom answered before Merlin could even place the question, “It was rather obvious, really. My mother was a descendant from a large and once wealthy family- one of power. It was surely only right that my mother’s ancient family would be the ones with my gift." Merlin internally groaned. Because Tom was exactly right- the ancient wizarding families had kept such a long seat in power because of their magic and influence, and it had always sickened Merlin to think of. He kneaded his forehead in dread.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The Gaunts?” He asked quietly, and he felt Tom stiffen with curiosity.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin took that as an affirmative. The books hadn’t lied, the hefty tomb: </span>
  <span class="s2">‘<em>On The Great Wizarding Families of Britain</em>’ </span>
  <span class="s1">had always been a reluctant purchase of Merlin’s, but suffice to say, he had needed to consult it more than he liked. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’d mentally kicked himself for not remembering the Gaunt family immediately after hearing Martha mention Merope and Marvolo. The night after visiting Wools, when he had found the name, he’d known immediately.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The Gaunts. Descendants of Salazar Slytherin: the pure-blooded, bigoted family who had squandered their wealth of old, clinging only to their false impression of their ‘noble heritage’. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Perhaps there was a sliver of the calculated and cool nobility that Salazar had once carried within Tom. Or perhaps Merlin was just getting his hopes up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"The Gaunt family was indeed a wizarding family, though it surprises me how you would know that the magical gift is passed through blood.” Merlin finished with a short sigh.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nothing appears from nowhere Mr Thomas.” Tom replied, and Merlin nodded, satisfied for now.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was a pregnant pause in which Merlin took a long sip of his drink, realising with a little disappointment that it had gone an unpleasant luke-warm.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well,” he said at last, “that’s all the questions from me. I think a little bit of a wider introduction is due.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Thinking about it, Merlin disagreed with a lot of the modern wizarding culture. Many wizards seemed to believe their place above muggles in society as a given, thinking it okay to constantly modify their memories and often treat them like animals. Merlin disliked the Statute of Secrecy also, but he understood that if the wizarding community was to return to modern day life, it was very probable that neither side would be able to cope. Merlin thought miserably to the advantage people like Tom might try to take on muggles if the Statute fell. Perhaps one day they'd be ready- but not yet.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Merlin did his best to fill Tom in on the basics of wizarding society, and though the boy put on a good attempt at hiding it, Merlin could tell it was all new to him. Something in his eyes drank up the new information with a hunger that Merlin had rarely seen. The desire to understand, to master, to conquer all that he learned and surveyed was a driving force in what Merlin had observed in Toms nature. Merlin did his best to tame this, by relating each of the wizarding features he described to a muggle appliance. The owl system was very much like the human postal service, and Hogwarts was very much like a boarding school. He hoped, if he religiously instilled the similarities between muggles and Wizards to Tom, the boy would somehow not adopt the extreme views of the Gaunts, or, albeit many of the Slytherins.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"How big is this... underground community?" Tom asked a little while into Merlins tale.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"A fraction of the size of muggle Britain. Not close to reach a million in this country- but there are many of us across the world. Just like muggles, we have our own government, laws, transport... And schools."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Hogwarts?"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yep." Merlin answered, "Hogwarts is the wizarding school here in Britain. It's an incredible place, and you'll be going there no doubt."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"When?" Tom asked eagerly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"September- you'll get a letter within the next couple months." Merlin explained, watching Toms reaction carefully. The boy paused, smiling to himself for a moment, before answering.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I've got to make sure I'm the greatest wizard that they've ever seen."</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, even if it was more of an intro.<br/>Pennethorne Road is a place I chose in London. There’s a station nearby that goes to Kings Cross and while it’s a nice looking Victorian residential area, it’s also not too far from the centre of the city. It would be around in the 1920’s.<br/>I’ll hopefully get the next few chapters up here soon, but again just head over to ff.net if you can’t be bothered to wait.</p><p>Yours, Hedge</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Letter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tom Riddle has settled into life on Pennethorne road, but Merlin begins to question how much the boy knows amidst receiving the most important letter of his life.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Back to updating this, sorry. Trying to revise/improve/spell-check the chapters from ff.net as I post them over here and that makes it a much longer process.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>The Letter<br/><span class="u"><em>~16th June, 1938...</em></span><br/>April had blurred into May, and May had passed into June far quicker than Merlin had expected. Tom, who had remained stony as ever for the most part of this, was settled into life on Pennethorne road at last. He had remained quiet most days, speaking only when he needed to and accompanying Merlin with minimal reluctance on various outings.<br/>Merlin had tried to slip in little life lessons whenever he could. Tom came to the market with him every week and they had also visited many other simple attractions of Muggle London. When Merlin had first begun to implement these outings Tom had been visibly uncomfortable with having to interact with muggles. Now he had knowledge that the wizarding world was truly out there, Merlin suspected that Tom despised how he had not yet been introduced to any of it. He was being forced to lead a Muggle life when a whole wealth of power lay dormant at his fingertips.<br/>But it had been important to Merlin that they wait. He needed time to prepare himself, and he also wanted Tom to appreciate muggle life before he would likely abandon it forever.<br/>Tom had made very little real progress when it came to interacting with muggles (or other people in general), but he seemed to put up with them more now. Merlin had expected the going to be slow, so he wasn’t alarmed by this. He hadn't, however, realised what a problem the prospect of the magical world and Hogwarts would become.<br/>At first the school had sat on a distant horizon, but now it drew closer and closer. Merlin was having to reconcile with the fact that he would soon have to let Tom go. They had but a few months together before the old Warlock would be forced to send Tom where he would no longer be under his supervision. It was putting him at odds with the boy, because he could tell how badly Tom was looking forward to it. Whilst Merlin had no doubt he would make an excellent student- his magical core was stronger than most- he was scared what might become of Tom. Would all the progress Merlin hoped to make be lost at Hogwarts? Would Tom dominate and manipulate as he was capable of? Or was there a chance that the orphan boy would be neglected to brood into something even worse?<br/>Oftentimes Merlin felt hopeless. He consoled himself that in first year, there was surely little harm that could be done, though he hardly believed this. He knew full well that underestimating someone was never wise. If he had ever assumed Tom would be fine on his own, he wouldn’t have adopted the boy.<br/>What he was certain of, however, was that Tom had to attend Hogwarts. He was adamant in his mind that Tom needed the social exposure if he was ever to escape the state all his isolation had put him in. He needed to learn to use magic among other witches and wizards.<br/>But even these rational worries about Hogwarts could not overpower the gnawing feeling of attachment that had formed within Merlin. He liked having Tom around, and maybe when he left he’d lose that connection Martha had always talked about.<br/>Tom was a project, that was for sure. An ambitious and important project that happened to be a lost little boy whom no one had ever given the chance to be better. Spawned from an unsettling heritage, a victim of circumstance who needed someone to teach him what it was to be human. Tom was someone who’d had to build himself on paper thin foundations and needed all the support he could get. Not to mention there was still that part that reminded Merlin of his younger self. Or, what his younger self could have become.<br/>A cruel and harsh world bred cruel and harsh people, and though Merlin couldn't ever hope to break such a cycle on his own... he could try all he could. He was older now, harder now, and wiser now. He would not repeat his mistakes of the past so easily. Morgana had arguably been his greatest failure in his past life. A victim of the wrong people and a lack of guidance, just like Tom. <br/>Merlin had been trying particularly hard to keep his thoughts from the past, in order for his sole focus to lay on Tom's well-being, and they’d begun to work on his control over his magic. It was strange how quickly Tom could change from his quiet, brooding nature in the Muggle world, to his animated and determined attitude when magic was brought up. He had applied himself to the simple tasks Merlin had set him, concentrating on harnessing his magical core safely and improving his control and tolerance. This was perhaps the one area they had made the most progress, as Tom so readily and genuinely applied himself to it. The allure of feeling his own power and one day being able to use it was too much for Tom not to get stuck in.<br/>The rest of the time he was impossibly difficult to break, but Merlin was beginning to manage it. He had realised within the first week that the only way for any of his lessons to stick was if he had first broken down Tom's mask to reach the real boy behind the cold wall. He tried to slip the notions of kindness and tolerance in wherever they went. Tom remained thoughtful of these things, but Merlin could not truly read him yet. He only hoped that at least something was sinking in.<br/>Merlin had also been doing some thinking of his own. He had tried not to pry much further into Tom since the first day, when they had spoken of his family, but he knew he would have to venture in again soon. Parts of Tom's story just did not add up. Or rather, parts of his vocabulary didn't.<br/>He had used the terms "wizards" and "muggles" in their first meeting at Wools without batting an eyelid. More importantly, he had used the phrases before even Merlin himself had used them, and yet later appeared totally new to the wizarding world. “Wizard” could certainly be allowed a lucky guess, but “muggle”? Merlin had not noticed it in the moment: the word being so commonly used in modern wizarding society meant it had slipped over his head. Not for long, however. He had wracked his brains over many long evenings but he could not think of a sensible reason as to why Tom would know these words, and yet the rest of the magical world be so new to him. It was possible that Tom knew a lot more than he was letting on, and Merlin had only just scratched the surface, but surely a boy like Tom would not let his guard slip on such a tiny thing if he truly wanted to keep it under wraps.<br/>He could think of no sensible sources where Tom could have picked up the word, as the Statute of Secrecy had been firmly in place now for almost three hundred years. No wizarding books could have escaped the Ministry's surveillance, especially during the Grindelwald debacle recently. Sure, the "accounts" Tom had found of people like him could be plausible, but the more Merlin thought about it the more unlikely it seemed that Tom could stumble upon such stories of strange events and manage to piece the picture together. He was smart, yes, but intelligence was not coincidence. Scouring libraries for this sort of stuff could take years, since most muggles who had escaped wizarding encounters without memory modification were written off as mad, and records were seized by the Ministry. Any accounts from before the Statute would be seen as fiction, just like the legends of King Arthur.<br/>It made Merlins head ache sometimes. He had seen Tom's furious work though, and he knew he was still working on it even now, as it was tucked in one of his drawers in his new room. The boy was still up to something and had apparently been for a year. Merlin had one lead from all of this, one still unexplored possibility. It seemed outlandish, but Martha had also believed that Tom's strange research had stemmed from there. The incident in the cave. The two children who were never the same.<br/>Merlin sighed, sinking further into his seat in the kitchen where he had been once again going over the same musings. He would have to ask Tom. Martha didn't know any more than she had told him and there was no way he would find answers through the poor children. He didn't want to jeopardise the relationship that he had built with Tom, but this plot hole couldn't go unsolved.<br/>But for now, Merlin thought, there was a bigger thing at hand. He glanced across the work surface to where a letter sat quietly, face down. Addressed to Tom in a black elegant script with a crisp parchment envelope it set Merlin’s teeth on edge. <em>It was here.</em><br/>The front latch clicked from down the hall.<br/>Merlin sucked in a breath.<br/>"It's here, isn't it."<br/>The response had been immediate, as soon as Tom laid eyes on Merlin. He had known it was going to be any day now, and so had Tom. The boy’s growing anxiety and questions about the letter had not escaped Merlin’s notice. <br/>Seeing him face to face with the physical confirmation that Tom would soon be leaving brought back Merlins earlier thoughts. Once at Hogwarts, he would be unable to scry on Tom, due to the wards in place at the school, and the clingy, sentimental part of him that Kilgharrah had always criticised hated the idea of not being able to protect him anymore. To appreciate every rare, small smile that cracked his hardened features, or to congratulate him whole-heartedly when he was able to calm the strong connection between his magic and emotions. He had even thought about keeping the boy under his watch and homeschooling him, but the hard truth was that the isolation would do more harm than freedom. Clinging to Tom wouldn't keep him entirely safe, and Merlin didn’t want to suffocate him.<br/>Merlin sighed, "It's here."<br/>Tom raced across the hall to meet Merlin, casting his bag aside by the front door as he did so. He snatched the letter across the work surface and only slowed down in his motions to meticulously open the wax sealed, parchment envelope. Merlin noticed as Tom slid out the letter itself that his hands were shaking.<br/>"Come round here, let's read it through." Merlin said, beckoning him to sit on the stool next to him. Tom did so, and as he unfolded the letter Merlin took hold of one side to keep it steady as Tom took in the paper with such an expression that Merlin told himself he shouldn't be getting used to. Relief was certainly plain to see, the release of all the worries Tom had had over the past few weeks as he questioned if he was ever going to get a letter at all, but in his eyes was the same hunger, even greed, that would set a man’s teeth on edge.<br/>He turned those deep, dark eyes, glassed over by all the emotion of the moment, to look at Merlin, opening his mouth.<br/>"Tuesday." Merlin said, answering the question he sensed on Toms lips. "I'll take you Tuesday."<br/>He'd been with Tom to the Leaky Cauldron on one occasion, but they'd never set foot in Diagon Alley itself. He knew Tom desperately wanted to go, but Merlin had wanted to wait just a little longer until he was comfortable to let the boy loose in the muggle world before he took him into the wizarding one on a firm leash. Speaking of which...<br/>"How was the paper round?" Merlin said, standing up from where Tom was still pouring over the letter intently, turning to the kettle and absent-mindedly flicking the stove on with an twitch of his wrist. He hastily pulled out his stuffed stick and pretended to use it to get two cups from the overhead cupboard, and the tub of cocoa powder. Tom hummed in reply, muttering something about a tip from Mr Peterson on the corner.<br/>"Oh, well that's nice of him. Did you say thank you?"<br/>"Obviously." Tom muttered, running his finger over the wax seal and committing it to memory.<br/>"I've no doubt, you're annoyingly polite sometimes. A bit of a charmer some would say."<br/>Tom smiled at this, finally putting the letter down and turning to watch Merlin as he made the hot cocoa. "It pays to be nice to people, Mr Thomas."<br/>"It certainly does, it certainly does." Merlin said, rummaging in the fridge for the cream. "It's incredibly rewarding you know, being pleasant. You feel good about yourself."<br/>"People will do things for you." Tom said, grabbing a couple spoons from a drawer.<br/>"Yes, the odd favour is always nice, but sometimes I like to do something good for someone for nothing but my own happiness in return. It costs very little effort. For example: I made you cocoa. It's reward enough just watching you enjoy it." Merlin said, putting far too much cream atop the steaming liquid than was medically acceptable, and passing it to Tom with a flourish. Tom let out a small chuckle.<br/>"I guess so." He said, but it was enough for Merlin. A thousand years had taught him to spot when someone was playing another face, so whenever Merlin saw Tom’s genuine side shine through with even the tiniest truthful pleasantness, he felt as though he could jump for joy. Progress was progress after all, and Merlin was starting to think he was getting good at it. Once that wall was down, Tom's true character could be opened up, and Merlin could finally work his magic for an outcome.<br/>But the moments never lasted long, the guard was back up as soon as Merlin had taken a sip of his own cocoa.<br/>"Would you allow me to do some reading before I go? Just to... get some basic theory and-"<br/>"I'm sure I've got a few books in my study," Merlin said, cutting off Toms silky drawl, "but you shouldn't feel pressured to rush into it. I have no doubt you will be at the head of your classes. It might be worth having a few set-up reads though." Perhaps, Merlin thought, licking some stray cream from his nose, it would be worth giving Tom a few... how to phrase it... <em>planted</em> reads. Just a couple books of Merlins personal choice to give him an idea of the founding of Hogwarts. Not such that would ground his prejudice further, reading about the unfortunate fall of Salazar Slytherin, but perhaps something from a time far before that. Where the seeds of the future of magic were truly first sown. Where muggles and sorcerers had lived together in relative harmony. Each equal to the other.<br/>Perhaps Camelot would be a good place to start.<br/>"I'll find you something for this evening." He said after a moment and Tom’s face lit up.<br/>"Now," he said, smacking his lips, "lets take a look at that list they've sent you."<br/>It was just passing five thirty when Merlin emerged from his study and called Tom down from upstairs. He paused, listening to the movement above and tapping his fingers rhythmically against the books in his arms. He hummed a tune he subconsciously realised was a rendition of one of the Camelot courts favourite banquet accompaniments. The echoes of a life he barely remembered what it felt like to live.<br/>He made his way over to one of the three armchairs in the living room, Tom soon joining him in another, eyeing the books beadily across the coffee table. Merlin gave Tom a small smile, setting the books down in a neat stack on the table. Tom immediately reached forward for them and Merlin allowed himself a small amount of satisfaction as the Riddle boy began to flip through the pages of the top book: a small, leather-bound tomb whose faded cover titled ‘<em>Camelot: The Establishment of Legend</em>’.<br/>Sure, the book was dry in places, the author having a tendency to talk lengthily about the exact way the city was constructed in the first few chapters. Everything from the stone used in the great walls to the methods used to make the stained glass of the citadel courtyards, but he eventually got onto the social foundation and the bit Merlin was interested in. Merlin had picked it simply because it annoyed him the least of his unfortunate collection of books on Camelot. Dry, yes, but factual. The book actually talked relatively little of King Arthur and of the many ridiculous tales that had sprung up about him in the last millennium. Merlin liked it that way- for one thing it meant he could read about the city he had once loved without having to deal with the awful and frankly stupid misconceptions about what really happened, and the crushing guilt which came with every mention of his beloved King. For a second thing, and the reason he was giving the book to Tom, the author had focused on the social establishment of Camelot as a whole, and how long before the purge, a harmonious society of sorcerers and muggles lived equally- each with their own invaluable part to play in society, rather than simply focusing on a few characters.<br/>Another book was a simple guide to the founding of the Ministry of Magic- it was an accurate and non-biased account, the sort of thing you would find in text-books, but Merlin knew Tom would lap up any knowledge of the wizarding world he could get. Plus, it would be useful for him to know how the ministry functioned.<br/>Finally, Merlin had given Tom a book titled ‘<em>Hogwarts: Famous Alumnae</em>’. It did what it said on the tin, and there was little mention of the founders. He wasn't sure yet how he was going to go about the delicate matter of Salazar. Tom was, after all, his descendant. There was no knowing how he would react to such a heritage, or whether he knew already, and to be honest Merlin didn't really want to think about that right now. He had known Slytherin very briefly, and rather distantly, but he had known him enough to be aware that the man was far more complex than the cruel and prejudiced figure that had gone down in writing. There were too many rumours these days about what Salazar had left behind...<br/>"Why this book?" Tom asked, leafing through the Camelot one across the room.<br/>"Camelot was arguably the starting point for wizarding society as we know it. If you ignore all the ridiculous myth and legend, the city itself was just as incredible," Merlin mused, "but more importantly, it was <em>real</em>."<br/>Tom nodded, understanding.<br/>They were silent for a long time after that, Merlin thinking quietly to himself of all that had been. He had not stayed long in Camelot after Arthur... died... but Gwen had welcomed him back with the most open arms, and to this day he was still grateful for it. He had needed Gwen more than ever in those few years. Only she had known Arthur since the beginning of it all and only she had been through it as Merlin had. She’d felt the wrath of Morgana and known her as she was before; she’d seen Arthur grow and watched Uther fall; she’d seen Merlin lose everything and she’d lost it with him.<br/>The repeal of the magic ban had passed as a blur, nothing he remembered as happily as it should have been. His realisation of his own immortality had driven him painfully from the city after only a decade. He remembered his last words to everyone and he could never imagine forgetting a single one of them. He just couldn't watch them die, as he had watched Arthur. <br/>Merlin sucked in a slow breath, he couldn't be pulled into that now.<br/>He turned his attention to Tom. The boy sat quietly reading through the first chapter of his Ministry of Magic history, concentration written clearly on his brow. <br/>Was it worth a punt? Tom looked calm enough, and certainly satisfied for now, Merlin wondered if he'd open up for a bit of a favour. Whatever happened, addressing this was always going to be a massive risk.<br/>Merlin sat back in his chair, thumb and forefinger nervously rubbing his clean-shaven chin. He had to know, but he was quite honestly terrified to jeopardise whatever connection he had built with Tom. The whole thing was resting very much on a strange mutual trust at the moment and even Merlin’s own curiosity could not convince him entirely that it was worth breaking that down for answers. It was unsettling that Tom could scare him in that way. They'd had no slip ups so far, no outbursts. The longer Tom lasted and the more control he learned over his magic, the more the tension built. Surely, now that Tom had come on so well there was a reduced enough risk of an outburst that... Merlin stalled, cursing himself.<br/>He knew full well he could deal with a magical outburst from Tom, but the truth was he didn't want to. He didn't want it to come to that because he knew he would truly have to face up to the importance of his task. Tom was powerful, and he could easily become the next Grindelwald. Only Merlin stood in the way, and he would rather not recognise the pressure he’d put himself under if he could help it.<br/>But it was necessary.<br/>Merlin straightened up, attracting the attention of Tom from his reading.<br/>"Could I ask you something?" There was no going back now. Merlin swallowed as Tom looked up from his books quietly and nodded.<br/>"It's about something you said at Wools. I believe you called me a "muggle lover" and I can't help but wonder how you knew the word." Merlin said carefully.<br/>Tom had gone rigid.<br/>"I told you," he said smoothly, body relaxing, "I knew I was different, I put in the work and the research and I was beginning to piece together the skeleton of your world before you completed the picture, so to speak." His voice was enviably neutral, his face betrayed nothing but innocence. "I came across it in accounts, I suspected we would have a term for them all."<br/>Merlins stomach churned. Tom spoke of muggles as almost animals.<br/>"I don't believe you." Merlin countered bluntly. There was no delicate way to go about this with Tom, he was too perceptive.<br/>Tom narrowed his eyes just a little, "Why? What could be unreasonable about that?"<br/>"It's just that the more I think about it, the more unlikely it gets. The Statute of Secrecy is not something taken lightly, things don’t just <em>slip through</em>. I can perhaps allow you the coincidence of finding accounts of muggles seeing magic, but there shouldn't be any source in muggle libraries where you could find the word. And as I said: it all rests on coincidence."<br/>"How else do you propose I came across it then." Tom said. He was calm in his seat, and if you didn't know him you would think the boy remained completely unfazed by the situation. But Merlin knew him. He could see the doubt in the boy’s cold eyes.<br/>"That's what I'm asking you." Merlin said simply. "I am lead to believe that you know more about the wizarding world than you let on, and I can't think why."<br/>Tom was silent for a long moment. "It seems strange to me," he said eventually, a small smile on his lips that set Merlins teeth on edge, "that you would ask me to open up, when you’re not willing to do the same."<br/>The lump that had formed in Merlin’s throat dropped like a stone into his gut. <em>He knew</em>.<br/>Tom's smile visibly grew and Merlin realised his surprise had crept onto his face. Was he surprised though? No, he should have known Tom would suspect immediately he wasn't all he made out to be. He too had an out-of-bounds study that he was unwilling to share.<br/>He needed to take a different approach. Tom was not going to speak to him unless Merlin gave him a reason to. It had to be in Tom's own interests to tell Merlin what he knew and how he knew it. He began to speak again with renewed calm.<br/>"Yes, I've got privacy of my own, but the point is the more this bothers me, the more outlandish conclusions I am starting to draw. I’m beginning to doubt everything you say- who’s to know if I’m seeing you or just an elaborate facade?" The irony was painful. Merlin reassured himself that even if he did live behind another name, unlike Tom, he had never hidden his personality or his nature. He was not the Merlin of legends, but he was still Merlin, in every way but his name.<br/>Across the room, Tom bit his lip. "I've learnt to keep my guard up, Mr Thomas. You can hardly blame me."<br/>"No, I can't. However, I’ve trusted you enough to allow you into my home and I see something in you worth caring deeply about. I’d like to think I’m owed your authentic self, when I’ve been nothing but kind to you."<br/>Tom thought about this carefully. When the silence dragged for five minutes, Merlin decided to come at it a little more gradually.<br/>"Had you ever met another Wizard before me?" He asked.<br/>"No, I had not." Tom answered evenly. Merlin pondered him a moment, trying to gauge if he was lying or not. Somehow, he didn't think so. He hoped he was right.<br/>"So if you didn't find it in a book, or hear it in person... where else could you have found knowledge?" Merlin said aloud, looking around the room as if searching for answers right in front of him. His eyes eventually settled back on Tom.<br/>"If you're trying to talk the answer out of me, you won't." The boy said simply, "Perhaps you were mistaken? You never heard me say such a thing?"<br/>"I'm certain I wasn't." Merlin said, smiling. "You can't talk me out of asking you, either."<br/>Tom raised his eyebrows at Merlin, a challenge in his eyes.<br/>"Well," Merlin said, "perhaps you'll allow me to ask about something else entirely unrelated?" He didn't expect to fool Tom with this, but he hoped to keep the conversation in this uneasy lighthearted state. Tom sometimes enjoyed sparring a little with Merlin in conversation and it might open him up. Merlin often wondered if Tom was trying to puzzle him out in the same way.<br/>Tom made no objection, so Merlin continued, "You went on a trip with the orphanage, last summer?"<br/>Tom nodded slowly, calculatingly.<br/>"To the beach, I believe. And it was there that you found a cave." Merlin said, making Tom sit forward slightly in his seat. He cocked his head in mock curiosity, but Merlin saw the glint of anger in his eyes.<br/>"You took two children into that cave, and I'm told that they were never the same again." Merlin finished, watching Tom sternly. The boy’s reaction was unexpected.<br/>"I suppose that was Martha who told you all that." He said, only he lightly spat out Martha's name in barely concealed frustration. "Don't bother with what she says to you. She tried to get me sent off to various institutions, the filthy muggle-"<br/>"Tom!" Merlin growled, putting an end to his rant. "You do not use that language in this house."<br/>Tom, knuckles white clutching the books on his lap, took a deep breath, eyes narrow. Merlin had begun to feel his magic simmering within him and he hoped that the control exercises he had given would be enough, because the old Warlock wasn't finished just yet.<br/>"Martha has my complete respect. She was only trying to-"<br/>"You respect her? After all she did to me?" Tom said so quietly that it sent the hairs on the back of Merlin’s neck on end. "You're a Wizard!" He cried, "I thought <em>you'd</em> understand!" Magic crackled in the air around Tom and his neatly combed hair ruffled in the strange breeze that had swept up in the room.<br/>Tom’s control lasted only a moment longer: he had stood up out of the arm chair and almost immediately all the glass in the cabinet beside him shattered outwards. The room crackled with magic, sparks igniting the stove across the room and pressure cracking the two empty cocoa mugs out on the side.<br/>"<em>Hilderand</em>," Merlin whispered, throwing an arm out towards Tom. The shield surrounded the boy for a moment, as the force of his own magic threw him off his feet. Shards of glass showered over Merlin as all of a sudden the magic evaporated. Merlin began to breath deeply, surveying the damage.<br/>The sound of shattering glass had left a deafening silence in its wake and Merlin felt as though he was watching the scene from afar. Slowly, very slowly, Tom got shakily to his feet. He looked around him a moment, drinking in the sight with pitiless eyes. He glanced down at his own hands, examining them carefully.<br/>It was a while before he realised Merlin was there, Tom locked their eyes with a hard stare.<br/>"I-" Merlin croaked, attempting to shake some of the glass out of his hair and noting that he had several small cuts bleeding down his arm.<br/>"I'm sorry," Merlin said sheepishly, embarrassment creeping into his tone, "I should have seen that coming."<br/>Still Tom didn't move, he stared Merlin down, fists clenched at his side.<br/>"I-I can mend all this," Merlin waved a hand, indicating the chaos around them, at a loss of what to do, "I was always breaking things as a kid."<br/>He shakily pulled his wand from his pocket, flicking it towards the cabinet. He ran a sweaty hand through his hair as the glass on the ground was pulled by an invisible force back into the cabinet frames. Tom watched this all silently and it worried Merlin that the boy wasn't reacting. He couldn't read him at all, and that scared him.<br/>"Argh," Merlin muttered, "I should have known it would end like this." He found himself thinking back to the many outbursts he'd had as a child. At first, he’d been shocked that the magic he had usually had such tight control over could lash out like that. The more he had been forced to suppress it, the more liable to an outburst he had become. This particular incident from Tom had probably been building for a few days. Merlin kicked his foot into the rug in frustration. He had missed all the signs, he had let it go too far. At least he was sure now: for better or for worse, Tom’s magic was far above average in its strength.<br/>"That feeling when it suffocates the air around you... I know it all too well." Merlin found himself saying, unsure why. Anything to fill the silence was welcome. "You think you've got a hold on it and then, it just takes on a mind of its own."<br/>"I'll be able to use this soon?" Tom spoke at last, he was still stood in the same place, looking at the mended cabinet intensely.<br/>"Yeah." Merlin said, sighing inwardly and sitting back down in his chair, exhausted.<br/>"It will obey me?" Tom pressed, Merlin sensed the same anxiety in his voice as there had been before the letter arrived. Tom had slipped in a question about it almost everyday for two weeks.<br/>"Everyone's magic is unique," Merlin replied, relaxing now Tom’s interest had moved on from their previous conversation at the idea of his own dormant power, "when you receive your wand, you’ll find it compliments your magic. The wand best suiting to your power will choose you. Once you begin to properly study at Hogwarts it will be less erratic and more willing to cooperate. You'll... how to put this.... get to know yourself more." Merlin found himself smiling as he thought of it. Tom, however seemed confused.<br/>"You speak of magic as if it has a personality."<br/>"I would say it does," Merlin replied, "in its own way. Magic is the force behind everything. It is the fabric of this world: it is in everyone. It's something a wizard must come to respect as his equal to reach his full potential."<br/>"You mean to say that <em>muggles</em> have magic in them?" Tom scoffed lightly, but raised his eyebrows when Merlin made no move to object this.<br/>Tom dropped back down into his arm chair. "Magic to me does not feel like a companion. It is a power I respect, obviously, but I intend to harness and control it fully." He said thoughtfully, his ambitions clear.<br/>"Then I wish you luck," Merlin replied, still smiling, "that respect will help you greatly. Though I feel like magic has been a companion to you even if you haven't realised it. When I was young I had only my magic for company. It was several years before I met anyone who did not view me with suspicion, bully me, or cast me out. I was the gangly, clumsy boy who could do things no one else understood." It pained him to think of Ealdor, of Will, but he found a strange calm wash over him after Tom’s outburst. He felt like it was important to show Tom that he could open up about things, and it shouldn't be something to scare him. Despite the hypocrisy of this thought, Merlin continued. He hoped to better Tom’s understanding of himself.<br/>"Trust me when I say this Tom, I know what it feels like to be hated. To be distrusted by everyone for just being me. I could have been on your path, but eventually I met someone who was able to pull me out of my own darkness. To teach me that what I had was a gift, and that there were still good people in the world. I've learnt to judge muggles and wizards equally, and I'm no weaker for it. You may have been at odds with the children at Wools, but that does not mean that Mr Peterson, who gave you a tip this morning, is a bad man."<br/>Tom scrutinised Merlin as they sat in silence, the Warlock’s words hanging in the air between them.<br/>Eventually Tom began to speak again, changing the subject to question Merlin about Hogwarts, Diagon Alley and the world he was about to enter. He drank in all the information from Merlin with equal hunger to awe. Tom didn't even seem to notice, that for the whole rest of the evening, his expressionless mask was discarded. It was the longest time that Merlin had ever seen Tom's true character. It was strange to see his stony face change into various expressions, and whilst his questions were lined with an obsession over power, he was open with Merlin.<br/>Progress was progress after all, and it seemed like Tom had struck a chord with Merlin. It had never occurred to him the effect that empathy could have.<br/>Under the worrying exterior, Tom was just a little boy who needed someone to understand him.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for sticking with the story. Hoping to update here a little more frequently + I’m halfway through chapter 10 over on ff.net :)</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey! Thanks for reading the first chapter. <br/>I've put quite a bit of research into dates in this fic, so hopefully it will follow a consistent timeline, that fits into HP cannon along the way. Tom was born on December 31st 1926, Merlin visited Wools in the summer of that year before going travelling. Tom would start Hogwarts on the 1st of September 1938, with his letter arriving a few months prior, which is why I have decided to set the first chapter in March 1938.<br/>Yours, Hedge</p></blockquote></div></div>
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